Like Cats

Like cats intertwined
Or puppy dogs tumbled alltogether,

You and I
share cares (bare) on this bed.
In and Out
Your breath and mine,
Like thoughts laced with wine or
Sunlight through vines.

Just then, when I stood next to you,
It took all my pacifism
To not reach out and touch you.
Now I sit here on the edge
Of war wondering why I didn’t.

Wait.
I did.
I reached out and stroked your face.
Just my body
Stayed in place. Now, . . .

Night and I are dark inside.
The moon and you
A rising tide.
This life (and the rest) too light.
Night and I,
We must hold tight.

THE SUNSHINES BLUE . . .

On the day outside my mind,
           rides like wind flies and trains of inconsequence trade themselves for
                        thoughts as I wish for more than I can have or hold or even use in this
                world gone mad as a hatter,

In a world where anything can un happen, can re happen, can happen more or
              less with consequences and all the trimmings,
While we (you and I) still stay in a quandary, at a loss,
Up in the air like a coin star-crossed, our minds flipping, tripping

                        at all the evil dripping from the last bomb tossed.

Puce

“Puce”
is what Bobby Joe
would yell
as we lined up
at scrimmage and
dropped down into our stance.
He meant
he was going to take
my guy on a
crossblock. I,
I was to get his.
Somewhere around
the second time
Bobby Joe yelled
my guy began bailing
out.
Bobby Joe, he just
retired from the FBI.“Puce”
Said Bobby Joe as
He laughed and then told me
He’s the one who stomped
My hand in our last football game.

“Puce” says Bobby Joe at our thirty year reunion,
As he smiles and seems so absolutely sure
That this is a war we can win.

As
Yellow Ribbons gather on the trees and,
Yellow ribbons garnish their sleeves.
As blood becomes the red
You spill in war
And colors are what
Dead eyes can see
No more.
So yellow ribbons
Wrap the trees while
Bombs blast the sand
To its knees
Countries begin to sew
Yellow ribbons to the body bags,
Let yellow ribbons become
Refugee rags,
And remember that dead yellow
Eyes can not see their
Own toe tags.

“Puce.”